I had just had my 50th birthday and found the decade marker traumatic. When I went to get my driver’s license renewed, a matter-of-fact woman typed out the information, tested my vision, snapped the camera and handed me a laminated card with my picture on it.
"You mean I have to look at this for the next four years?" I jokingly said to her.
"Don’t worry about it," she replied. "In four years it’ll look good to you."